


May I Have This Dance, Dr. Bloom?

by JuliaJekyll



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Dresses, F/F, Girls Kissing, Love, Minor Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, POV Alana Bloom, Pregnant Alana, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 04:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4733357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaJekyll/pseuds/JuliaJekyll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alana and Margot are getting ready for Hannibal and Will's wedding. Fluff ensues. So much fluff. Nothing but fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	May I Have This Dance, Dr. Bloom?

**Author's Note:**

> Another Marlana fic? Whaaaat?!   
> The background is a little different here than in my previous ones: Will and Hannibal are very much in love and neither of them are cannibalistic murderers. They're just two guys getting married, and Alana and Margot are, of course, invited!   
> As I said in the summary, this is pure, uncut fluff. Enjoy, and leave feedback! 
> 
> -Julia

Alana never got tired of seeing Margot happy.

Her beautiful, sexy girlfriend was zooming around their bedroom, smiling widely and singing—actually _singing_ —under her breath, pulling clothes out of their closet and throwing them on the bed for Alana's inspection, more energized than Alana had seen her since they'd first discovered that Alana was pregnant. She was also wearing a white negligee that nicely showed off her tanned, shapely legs, and Alana could not deny that she vastly appreciated the view.

“I can't wear black, obviously,” Margot mused, tossing a slinky black dress onto the chair beside the closet.

“But you look gorgeous in black,” Alana protested.

Margot made an affronted noise. “It's a wedding, Alana, not a funeral.”

“You could wear white,” Alana suggested. “There's no bride, after all, so no one too important will be wearing it.”

Margot snorted. “Hannibal would appreciate the irony.”

“If he can take his eyes off Will for four seconds, he might.” Alana tried to stand up, but ended up falling back onto the bed with a small “oof!” She was heavily pregnant now, due in just under two months, and any grace she'd ever had was gone.

Margot gave her a smile that was a mixture of amusement, sympathy, and adoration, and came over to help her back up into a sitting position. “I for one,” she said softly, giving her lover a swift kiss on the lips, “am just looking forward to dancing with my beautiful girlfriend at the reception.”

Alana raised an eyebrow, then glanced down at herself. “Margot,” she said, “I'm as big as a house. I can't dance.”

“Nonsense,” Margot replied. She took Alana's face between her hands and kissed her again, more soundly this time. “You're going to put on the new dress I bought for you, and you're going to look absolutely beautiful, and you're going to dance with me.”

Alana looked skeptical. “You bought me a dress?”

“I did. Want to see it? Try it on, maybe?” Margot pressed her closed lips to the corner of Alana's mouth, trying to tantalize her. At last, Alana smiled. “Alright,” she agreed. “Let's see it.”

Margot squeaked cheerfully and jogged back over to the closet, from which she extracted a pleated red dress she'd had taken out to accommodate Alana's pregnant form. “If you like it, I can have it taken back in after the baby comes, so that you can still wear it,” she explained.

Alana considered the dress. It was rather pretty: crimson, which Margot frequently insisted was “just your color, Alana”, with three-quarter sleeves and a skirt that looked like it would fall slightly below her knees. Alana smiled. “Help me up,” she said.

With a smile of her own, Margot complied, draping the dress over her shoulder so that she could take Alana's hands and pull, giving Alana the leverage she needed to rise to her feet. The sudden motion didn't appear to please the baby, who immediately delivered a hard kick inside Alana's belly. “Oh!” Alana exclaimed, placing both hands over her rounded stomach. “This kid's going to be strong.”

“Of course he will; he's a Verger-Bloom,” Margot replied fondly. She lay one of her hands over Alana's so that she could feel the next kick. She leaned down so that her face was level with the baby bump, still smiling widely. “We want you to grow up to be a strong boy, but take it easy on your mother, yes?”

Alana chuckled. “Please,” she murmured. “You've really been doing a number on me lately.” She put her hand under Margot's chin to raise it so that she could look into her eyes. “But it's alright,” she whispered, talking now both to the baby and to her lover. “It's alright because I love you, and I love knowing that you're there.”

A sheen of tears glistened in Margot's eyes at that. She blinked it quickly away, but it had been there, and Alana felt a rush of immense tenderness toward the other woman. She felt so incredibly lucky to have found her and to be bringing a new life into the world with her. The thought of their life together made her throat seem to close, and before she knew it there were tears on her cheeks.

Margot clicked her tongue understandingly and wiped Alana's tears away with her hands. “I know, love,” she said simply.

Alana sniffed. The pregnancy hormones were making her more prone to strong emotion than usual, and sometimes it frustrated her to have so little control over her feelings, but in that moment, since it was just the two of them, it didn't bother her so much. It was worth it to be able to make it clear to Margot how deeply she felt for her.

Alana could see the same love in her partner's eyes as Margot moved behind her, letting her hand trail over Alana's belly. From behind, Margot carefully and tenderly removed the nightgown Alana was still wearing—it was only ten in the morning, and it was Saturday—pulling it over Alana's head as she raised her arms to allow the sleeves to slip off. Alana stood, naked but for her underwear, as Margot trailed soft kisses from her now-bare left shoulder to her right. “You're so beautiful like this,” she said softly. With her customary grace, she moved back in front of Alana and crouched down so that she could kiss her belly. “I love you both,” she declared against Alana's skin, before straightening up again and taking hold of the dress.

Margot unzipped the dress and helped Alana pull it on, then went behind her to zip it back up. Standing in front of Alana again, she surveyed the view with a fashion expert's critical eye, made a couple of adjustments to Alana's hair and sleeves, and then took her hand to lead her over to the mirror. Alana looked at herself in the full-length glass, actually a bit taken aback at how pretty she looked. There was a pleasant flush in her cheeks, put there, she supposed, by a combination of pregnancy and the knowledge that she was loved. The red of the dress went well with her dark hair, as Margot had no doubt predicted it would, and instead of making her look ungainly, the swell of her belly made her look proudly womanly.

“Well, does it fit? Do you like it?” Margot asked excitedly.

Alana executed a little turn for Margot's benefit, then took a few steps away from the mirror. The dress had a pleasant way of swishing around her knees, and it encased her body nicely. She smiled. “I love it,” she answered honestly. She gave Margot a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Margot smiled back. “You're welcome, sweetheart.” She took Alana's hands and pulled her close, placing her hands on her waist. With a grin, Alana put her arms around Margot's neck, and they swayed together, Alana's belly between them, the baby inside shifting, but not kicking. They kissed softly, still moving as if they were dancing. “You see?” Margot whispered against her girlfriend's lips. “I was right, as usual. You look beautiful, and you're perfectly capable of slow-dancing with me.”

“Looks that way,” Alana replied. “Now, shall we try and answer the real question here?”

“Which question is that?”

Alana lifted Margot's left hand from her waist and pecked the back of it teasingly. “What are _you_ going to wear?”


End file.
